Help Them Grow
by FyoraHime
Summary: May catches her children making a mess in the greenhouse. She's ready to scold them until she discovers just how pure their intentions are, and she decides to lend them a helping hand. A one-shot featuring my Contestshipping fankids for CS Week 2016 Day 4: Children.


"Close your eyes and make a wish!"

Following the brunette's example, the toddler clasped his chubby hands together and squeezed his eyes shut. "I-I wish—"

Immediately the older girl's eyelids flew wide open and she brought her finger to her lips. "Shh! Say it in your head!"

Startled, the boy stopped midsentence. He kept his eyes shut, however, and simply nodded to express his understanding. Feeling reassured, the girl took a deep breath and reassumed her earlier position.

The little boy's lips began to move, but no words came out this time. Once he had finished, he carefully blinked his eyes open and directed his attention to his sister. "Why be quiet?" he asked.

Still in the process of making her own wish, the girl took some time to respond. Finally her eyelids began to flutter and she turned her gentle green gaze onto him. "If someone hears your wish, it won't come true," she informed him delicately, "so you can't say it out loud."

Her brother didn't seem satisfied by this answer. He folded his arms and began to pout. "I no like silly rule," he muttered. "I want share wish."

The girl assertively shook her head, causing her twin braids to sway. "Rules are rules," she insisted. Tenderly she rose to her feet, and a parade of soil fell from her lap. "Pick up your pot," she instructed her brother, who was still frowning as he hobbled onto his little legs. "We need to find a sunny spot!"

Much to her dismay, the flowerpot was far heavier now than it was earlier. In hindsight, she should have expected the weight change after adding so much dirt, but since the pot was so small she hadn't anticipated the difference to be so significant. She glanced over to see how her brother was faring. Unfortunately, sweat was beginning to trickle from his pale face, and anxiety danced in his purple eyes. He was struggling just as much, if not more, than she was.

Their struggles didn't end there.

"Jasmine! Oliver!"

At the sound of their mother's startled voice, both children jumped in fright. Jasmine fell onto her rear end but maintained her grip on her flowerpot; on the contrary, her brother dropped his pot in his shock, and it shattered upon hitting the brick floor. Immediately he burst out crying, and he quickly dropped to his knees and tried to salvage the remains. Locating the pieces through a thick veil of tears would be no simple task, but much to Jasmine's surprise, he persevered. ' _He really loves flowers_ ,' she thought as she protectively tightened her grip on her own plant.

"Oh no, Ollie! You'll cut your hand!" May warned as she rushed over to the scene. She scooped the three-year-old off of the ground and pulled him in towards her chest. Oliver didn't want to be hugged or comforted, though. He began to flail and wail, but to no avail; his mother held on tightly and began to rub his back, hoping to soothe the hysterical child. "It's okay, Ollie," she murmured. "Shhh…." Since she was no longer using his full name, Jasmine assumed that her mom was not _too_ upset with him. Would she be stricter with her daughter, who was supposed to be the responsible big sister? Would she use her full name, or would she use a nickname like JJ or June? Jasmine hated when her mother called her June, but at least that would indicate that she wasn't as furious as the little girl feared.

As Oliver began to settle down, May turned her attention to the wide-eyed brunette. The Top Coordinator kept her tone level, but somehow it seemed to contain a hidden, harsher layer beneath the surface. "Can you tell me why you two are covered in dirt?" she asked simply. Judging from the way she spoke and acted, May seemed to assume that her daughter knew better than to act so recklessly.

"We were planting flowers," Jasmine explained softly, suddenly feeling very meek. She would much rather have heard her mom call her "June" than hear that disappointed tone. Her cheeks flushed deep pink with embarrassment, and her voice shook with her next words. "Daddy has a lot of pretty plants in here, and he always gives you beautiful flowers. Ollie and I wanted to give you nice flowers, too." She sniffled and looked down at her aching, filthy hands. "I didn't think it'd be so hard or messy, but we were having fun… We wanted to make you happy…" Her voice cracked and she trailed off. Immediately she dropped her eyes towards the ground, unable to meet her mother's gaze. The little girl began to scratch her arm self-consciously, a nasty habit that emerged whenever she felt nervous.

Any prior anger dissipated as May listened and observed her honest, humble daughter. She gently placed Ollie back on the ground, and stepping carefully to avoid debris and scattered piles of soil, she approached the brunette with a soft smile on her face. "You already make me happy," she murmured soothingly as she got down onto her knees beside the troubled girl. "Both of you," she added, beckoning to her son to join them. "This is a big kid job, though. I don't want you two to get hurt by taking on more than you can handle." As if to emphasize her point, she lifted the flowerpot from Jasmine's shaking arms and placed it onto the ground beside her. What Jasmine had broken out into a sweat trying to lift, her mother moved aside effortlessly.

"Are you mad?" Oliver dared to ask at last. "We dirty. We make mess."

May laughed softly and ruffled his light green locks. "I don't mind that!" she insisted. "When I was your age, I went on all sorts of expeditions! I'd come back from the forest with twigs in my hair and leaves in my pants!" Both children began to giggle, much to their mother's delight. "I'm not telling you that you can go roll around in mud, but you're allowed to get dirty if it means you're having fun. Now, I have an idea," she began, relief settling over her as she saw her children's moods begin to brighten. "I'm going to clean up out here and then help you two take baths and grab snacks. Tomorrow, all three of us will come out here to plant flowers, and we'll surprise Daddy when they bloom!"

Jasmine sniffled and nodded in agreement, still too choked up to speak. Oliver, having already recovered, responded more energetically. "Yes! Yes! Snacks and flowers!" he cried. "But…" He turned to point sadly at the broken heap of soil, roots, and clay shards on the ground. "My flower died. Now my wish no come true."

May picked her way over to the "dead" plant, careful not to step on any of the pottery slivers. She lifted a small bushel of lilacs from the mess and cradled it in her arms. "I'll put him in the flower hospital tonight, and we can give him a permanent home tomorrow. Does that sound okay?" Oliver bobbed up and down eagerly, his eyes glowing at the thought of saving their lives.

"He _loves_ flowers," Jasmine commented, amused by her brother's enthusiasm. Before she knew it, a grin had stretched out onto the six-year-old's face. Her flustered feelings were swept to the side as hope and anticipation took root.

The Top Coordinator came up to her little boy so that he could see the salvaged lilacs. "Did you tell the flowers that you love them? Daddy says that talking to flowers helps them grow." Oliver gasped and leaned in towards the little cluster of blossoms, whispering fervently to them. Now that her mother had brought up the topic, Jasmine was able to recall seeing Drew converse with himself in the greenhouse on more than one occasion. Had he been talking to the flowers all along? Could they really raise flowers as wonderfully as he did?

As if reading her thoughts, May extended her free hand to Jasmine, who gingerly accepted it. "Daddy would be so proud to see how hard you two were working. He wants this to be a family greenhouse, after all." Her eyes drifted to a small rosebush in the corner, peppered with red roses throughout. "However," she continued, focusing on the present task, "we need to get you two in the bath before he gets home. If he sees just how filthy you are, then we'll have a _real_ mess on our hands!"


End file.
